


Artificial Heart (Tony POV)

by loftyperch



Series: Artificial Heart [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, But mostly angst, Fluff and Angst, Identity Porn, M/M, Romance, Slash, Soap Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loftyperch/pseuds/loftyperch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maintaining a secret identity was never <i>easy</i>, but it sure got a lot harder after Steve showed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filling in the gaps of Artificial Heart, although both could be read as stand alones.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Man meets Captain America.

It was all kinds of strange to find what we thought was Captain America's corpse on an otherwise routine clash with Doom in international, arctic waters.

Stranger still to return, properly equipped, and find him _alive_. 

I couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory as we hauled the ice block onto the ship (okay a great big, honking sense of victory). It may have been a coincidence of Dickensian proportions and unfathomably absurd odds, but I had done what my father had failed to do. _I_ had recovered Captain America from eternal glacial clutches, _I_ ... and about a dozen SHIELD agents ... had finished his unfinished business. 

At that point we still weren't sure the captain would recover, but I had _found_ him, goddammit, the ultimate prize at the bottom of the box. And when I finally caught up to my dad in hell, I'd be sure to rub his face in it (with every ounce of my subtle cunning and passive aggression brought to bear).

I was properly awed when they thawed him out and he drew his first shallow breath in almost seventy years, the pale flag of death retreating from his cheeks. All Oedipal bullshittery aside, this man had been my hero since before I could read - and the subject of some of my naughtier fantasies since puberty - and now he was _real_. I never imagined I'd ever be standing by his side, certainly not as a peer, as a fellow hero. It was a dream-I'd-never-dared come true.

We all made fun of Coulson's open fascination with him, but we all felt the same way (Coulson was just the one who wasn't trying to hide it). This was _Captain Fucking America_ ... and he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Old film reels and faded photographs didn't do him any kind of justice, didn't capture his thick lashes or the true span and slope of his shoulders, the sheer size of his hands.

I reached out and touched his face as soon as the doctors were done with him, only immune to the teasing that Coulson received because everyone thought I was a robot (and you can get away with a _lot_ of awkward social behavior when everyone thinks you're a robot, believe me). The almost involuntary gesture was hollow, though. I couldn't feel him through the armor, couldn't share my body heat, couldn't even see him with my own eyes through my mask.

"Perhaps he needs a kiss," suggested Thor in all sincerity, puzzled when the gathered SHIELD agents tittered nervously.

"Well ... if you really think so ..." Coulson muttered, only making his agents laugh harder.

Turned out he didn't need a kiss.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, ears still ringing with the unmistakable clang of vibranium.

"Don't shoot!" I shouted, hauling myself to my feet.

Thankfully, no one had the nerve to pull their trigger, though they kept their weapons drawn as they parted to let me through. I occupied a position of some authority in the SHIELD/Avenger hierarchy - a position I'd never be allowed if anyone knew I was Iron Man - and even Coulson was deferring to me now, letting me approach the poor captain, shaking like a leaf in the corner.

I put my hands up in what I hoped was a placating pose, remembering too late that they were packing heat. 

No one breathed.

After the longest few seconds of my recent life, Cap blinked the panic out of his eyes, and it seemed that he actually _saw_ me - well, saw _Iron Man_ \- for the first time. He stared at me, and I stared back. He didn't try to run.

"Guys, hold back. I think he's okay now" I said cautiously, hoping like hell I was right.

"Where am I?" he finally asked, voice as brave as it was afraid.

I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it comes with the leadership territory, and once Cap started talking, asking questions and listening to - if not comprehending - the answers, the hard part was over.

He apparently bought the robot schtick without a word of convincing, going so far as to ask if my father had built me, which was, I suppose, a forgivable assumption.

It was clear he didn't trust us - also forgivable - but he was too weak to do anything about it, so he let me help him back onto the exam table. He even let the doctors give him something to help him sleep, though he refused to part with his shield.

I stayed with him until he drifted off again, half afraid he'd disappear when I left the room. 

As his eyes slid shut they gave me one last, long look.

"Iron Man, huh?" he whispered, almost smiling. "Wow."

 _Captain America_ , I thought. 

_Wow._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Man meets Steve.

Once things had calmed down on the ship I flew back to New York for a few hours and put my entourage to work. I had Pepper start the search for a suitable bachelor pad, and Bruce agreed to feng the shui out of it with only the finest furniture. Happy I sent around town to buy all the movies he could find.

They were all as excited as I was that Captain America had survived ... and pretty disappointed when I didn't have more to say about him than "he's bigger than his action figure." But I promised to return with better stories.

It was actually another day or two before SHIELD let me back in to see him. They'd been keeping him as sedated as possible to avoid another incident, and Coulson got the privilege of bringing him up to speed on what SHIELD was and which of Cap's friends were still alive (none of them, sadly).

"He was asking about you," said Coulson, not unenviously, one morning as he passed me in the hall. "Would you go tell him breakfast is ready? I made my specialty."

I got quite a shock when I poked my head into his room and announced breakfast. I wasn't exactly expecting a big smile and a hearty handshake, but I was still taken aback by the sight of him, huddled on his bed, clutching his knees and staring out across the ocean. Without his uniform, he looked young and scared and so alone, a white t-shirt and khakis the only thing between him and a cruel, cruel world. I guess I'd been expecting Captain America, and I'd found Steve Rogers ... and he was clearly in pain.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, closing the door and moving into his line of sight.

And just when I thought he wouldn't say a word, he took a deep breath.

"I wish I had died."

My first instinct was to admit that I knew how he felt, that I had often thought it would have been easier to have died with my parents than gone on living without them, that there had been days in Afghanistan when death would have been a welcome alternative to open heart surgery and a car battery. But I was Iron Man, and such sympathy would be meaningless coming from a robot, so I just went to one knee at his side and waited patiently until he was ready to elaborate.

"I don't think I'm capable of facing the world without them. It hurt so bad when Bucky died, I never thought I'd ever feel worse ... but now ... now I don't even have a war to take my mind off it. I know that sounds terrible, but it gave me a purpose, something to fight for, something to focus on."

The rest flowed out, slow and painful as lava, but he never cried. I knew _that_ feeling, too, when grief is just too great for tears. Tears are for the little things, like broken hearts and broken bones. 

I didn't try to counsel him or make him feel better. There were no words that would have helped, nothing that would have made this situation make any more sense.

"Now SHIELD wants me to just pick up where I left off? As if nothing ever happened. As if nothing's changed. And what is this? _Metropolis_?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean look at you! You're this incredible, beautiful, walking, talking, thinking ... thing."

"Beautiful?" I repeated, self-consciously latching on to the compliment, tickled that he appreciated the hard work I'd put into my design. Iron Man had been called many things, but never _beautiful_. It felt good.

"Very."

I instinctively checked myself out a bit - the mirror was _right there_ , how could I not? - and I was glad Steve couldn't see me blush when he caught me at it.

"So what are these Avengers Coulson mentioned?" Steve asked, graciously rescuing me from my embarrassment.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, I stuck to the basics and didn't describe any of our nemeses. There would be plenty of time for the scary stuff later. And Steve asked questions, seemed genuinely interested, even smiled at me. He had a long, hard road ahead of him, but just talking through some of his baggage, saying his friends' names aloud, and expressing his frustrations already seemed to have helped. 

He'd survive this.

"Don't worry," I told him. "You'll fit right in, Cap."

And I believed it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has trouble being himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! Just realized I should have had Thor suggest Adventures in Babysitting!!! What was I thinking? :D

He treated me differently without the armor, kept his distance on the pier and in the car, eyed me almost angrily when it turned out I wasn't my father. And I tried to be friendly, but he didn't get my awkward attempts at humor ( _I thought you'd be taller_? What the hell was that?), didn't seem to realize how nervous I was to be meeting him as myself. 

Perhaps that was for the best. He didn't need to know that I was flouting Fury's orders with my very existence. He didn't need to know that I was anything but what I appeared to be. And the only reason Bruce found out was because he was such good friends with _me_.

I wasn't offended - not _overly_ offended anyway - when Steve asked to hang out with Iron Man instead of me (after I'd bought him a house and furniture and stocked his fridge with all his favorite foods). I was pleased that he liked Iron Man so much, even though I would have been even more pleased if he'd wanted to get to know _me_ better. But it was all the same in the end, right?

I did my best to explain the current state of world affairs in a single evening, uncertain what he'd already been told, armed only with a stack of print media (how quaint) because I didn't think he was ready for the internet.

His questions revealed a sweetness bordering on the saccharine, which I found repellent in other people yet was rather endearing in Steve. Was life better now for black people? For women? For Jews? Had we cured polio? The flu? Did the Dodgers ever win the Series? Did Communism work out? Why aren't we doing something about Syria? A war against _terrorism_? If we wanted a futile endeavor, why didn't we just declare war on _drugs_ for god's sake?

He seemed to like Obama and was thrilled about the idea of marriage equality and rights for undocumented immigrants (he wasn't up on the latest climate change science, but he was all for clean air and water and conservation), opening up the bleeding hippie heart he'd been hiding under a veneer of eagles and stars and stripes all these years. Where did they _find_ this guy?

I felt like the only proper follow-up was a lesson in pop culture, some way to prove that America was more than wars on intangible concepts and recessions, that art and entertainment hadn't been left in the radioactive dust. So, the next morning, I asked the Avengers to pick one of their favorite movies to share with their new teammate, and they didn't disappoint.

\-----------------------

"Cap, you've met Thor," I began once we were all gathered in the sunlit Stark Tower lounge and the coffee and bagels had been passed around. 

Everyone was out of uniform except me, and it was strange to be hiding under titanium alloy while my teammates were in jeans and tees, like half my vocabulary had been silenced, like Steve would never know my casual, down-to-earth side. Oh well. There were lots of my sides that he'd never get to see.

Beaming, Thor presented Steve with a copy of _The Muppet Movie_.

"'Tis most funny, especially the green, froggy fellow."

"Oh, neat, thanks."

"And this is Dr. Banner." I moved Steve down the line before Thor could do his Fozzie impression.

"Welcome to the team." Bruce passed over a special edition of _The Princess Bride_. "It's inconceivable that anyone should dislike this movie."

"Thank you, sir."

Clint gave him _Raiders of the Lost Arc_ ("Great writer, great director, _great_ score, and Harrison Fucking Ford"), and Natasha had brought _The Big Lebowski_ ("Maybe Bruce can scare up the _accoutrements_ for a proper viewing?" *unsubtle eyebrow waggle*). 

Despite my awkward lack of identity, I felt truly blessed to have such nerdy friends, all so intuitive that they had avoided material with more acclaim and less fun.

Coulson and Fury even stopped by with their classic selections: _Jurassic Park_ ("Perhaps the greatest leap forward in special effects since the earliest days of film") and _Pulp Fiction_ ("Call me crazy, but I'm a huge Tarantino fan") respectively.

By the end of the little meet and greet, Steve had an armful of homework and appeared vaguely disappointed.

"Thanks guys, I can't wait to watch these with you ... but, don't they make cartoons anymore?"

"Don't worry, Cap," I said, reaching over the couch for my own humble submission to the weekend binge. "Some of the most beautiful movies ever made have been animated." I set _Wall-E_ on top of his stack and watched his eyes light up for the first time since I'd met him.

"What's it about?"

I smiled behind my visor, just happy that I'd made him happy.

"Robots in love."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has his reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my shelter cat!!!

I had many reasons for keeping my secret identity, not the least of which was personal safety. Fury had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want me around, that he was willing to put a bullet in my brain if I so much as spoke to an Avenger about anything other than Iron Man. He made an exception for Steve, since I was Howard's kid and all, but soon after regular movie nights at Stark Tower began he warned me to back off. Said I was a bad influence. Bruce was also an exception to the rule, because he often needed my expertise ... and because he was an 800-pound gorilla and he could sit whereever he damn well pleased.

Another reason for secrecy was Stark Industries. The board had already tried to oust me once after Afghanistan. And building a superhero was pretty crazy, but actually _being_ a superhero was a whole nother level of crazy.

I also wanted to protect Pepper. She was very important to me, and I didn't want the entire supervillain community knowing they could threaten Iron Man directly through her. Better to let my unarmored self be the only potential target.

And perhaps the least important reason was because I had already let people believe it for so long. People liked Iron Man just the way he was, and they liked me just the way I was. There was no reason to out myself as a big fat liar unless the world depended on it, which it probably never would.

\------------------------------

"Iron Man, what are you doing? Get out of there. We cleared that building an hour ago," Steve cried as he came running up post-giant-naked-mole-rat-run-amok.

"Not everyone got out, Cap. I need your help." I wanted to gesture to my feet where a pile of black and orange kittens were desperately mewling for their missing mother, but I was a little preoccupied with holding up a slice of the building's façade and a quickly cracking support beam.

But he was way ahead of me, cooing as he picked each one up and arranged them in his shield. When he and his charges were well away I let the building fall, hoping like hell I hadn't just saved some strays at the expense of any human lives.

All the Avengers crowded around when they realized what Steve was holding, Hulk shrinking back into Bruce at the mere sight of the fluffballs, Thor naming one Tootsie (we'd just spent a weekend watching Dustin Hoffman movies) and declaring that he would bring it to Jane 'on the morrow.' Even Natasha let go of her carefully cultivated coollness for a few minutes of cuddling.

I asked if I could see one - I was after all, the guy who had risked life and limb for them - and Steve threw me a distinct I've-read-Of-Mice-and-Men look, instinctively pulling the kittens away from me.

"Don't worry," I said, more amused than insulted. "I can be gentle." 

And don't ask me why I did this - obviously I did it to demonstrate my ability to not crush defenseless kittens, and because Steve was covered everywhere else with patriotic kevlar - but I reached out and brushed my fingers against his cheek. 

Only when he blushed fire engine red did I realize how flirty that must have looked and sounded ... and was. I snatched my hand back under the sudden, intense gazes of the rest of the team.

Thankfully, after the initial shock wore off, Steve simply smiled one of his knee-meltingly gorgeous smiles and put a tiny life in my hands.

I found myself wishing Avenging could always be like that, that I could have such joy in my life forever: Good friends, a job well done, kittens everywhere and Steve giving me that special smile. And I found myself realizing that life could be like that for Iron Man, but not for Tony Stark.

Oh well. That was part of the price I had agreed to pay for a semi-private life.

The picture Coulson snapped of us - all grinning, each holding a kitten, Bruce wrapped in a blanket, Clint's arm around Tasha's shoulders - made the front page of all the papers. I had it framed, but I didn't dare put it up in the lab. After all, I technically wasn't in it. But I pulled it out and looked at it every now and again. It was a good picture, no one had blinked, everyone was smiling right at the camera.

Everyone but Steve. 

Steve was smiling at Iron Man.

\-----------------------------------

Yeah, there were lots of reason to distance myself from Iron Man.

But there was only one reason to be him.

I had to save the kittens.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds there can be solace in routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the feels. All of them.

I was beginning to like Saturday nights. Once upon a time I would spend them unfailingly in swingin' clubs or exclusive soirees - or the lab if I'd forgotten what day of the week it was - but ever since Steve showed up, I've been spending them on the couch with friends, popcorn, and goofy movies. 

I never actually partook of the popcorn, much as I would have loved to; Iron Man didn't eat, so neither could I. But thankfully Bruce was willing to pull me aside when appropriate to burn one up in the bathroom so I could fully enjoy _Flash Gordon_ and Messrs Cheech and Chong with the rest of the gang. (Steve claimed the green stuff didn't work on him. But it did. It totally did.)

\------------------

" _Meet Joe Black_?" Natasha suggested, not but a few hours after the kitten incident, already in her pajamas. 

"I don't know, I always heard it was kind of a chick flick."

"Shut your mouth, Clint! Besides, we've been at this for weeks and somehow Steve still doesn't know who Brad Pitt is."

Natasha won that argument on the grounds that none of us guys had seen it before. And on the grounds that Brad Pitt is fucking hot (that got my vote).

Two hours later we were all crying like broken-hearted babies, and Steve was pressing his face into my shoulder when he couldn't bear to watch Anthony Hopkins cross that bridge any longer.

"Why would you do that to us?" Bruce demanded, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Because catharsis," Tasha sniffled, gently consoling Clint.

"Well," Steve smiled through his tears, "I certainly see what you mean about that Brad Pitt guy."

Yeah, Saturday nights were quickly becoming my favorite thing to do.

\-----------------------------------------------

Sunday afternoons were another matter.

Sunday always seemed to be the day that Steve would stop by to check up on Iron Man, and it was frustrating on a lot of levels. First of all, he didn't seem to notice that I was usually trying to work when he came sauntering into the lab. Secondly, I had to keep reminding myself that he wasn't my friend, that he was only here to see a suit of armor that couldn't even talk back to him. Thirdly, he seemed perfectly content to let us remain little more than acquaintances, when all I wanted to do was be myself and joke about the latest mission or the upcoming SHIELD workplace safety seminar.

And lastly, his very presence made me paranoid that I'd let my secret slip. It was precisely the reason that I didn't generally sit and make small talk with anyone who didn't already know. Life was safer that way. And so were my friendships.

\---------------------

"So does he have feelings?" Steve asked, one hand on Iron Man's case.

_Too many._

There was a growing part of me that wanted to tell him everything.

"Well, more feelings than JARVIS has. No offense, buddy," I said instead, reminding myself that I would either be asking him to commit high SHIELD treason ... or that I'd be asking too much and he'd report straight to Fury.

"When do you think he'll be done charging?"

"Few hours." I could hang out later. At least two other Avengers were always free at any given time for an impromptu take out dinner or sparring or strategizing. 

Or it could just be me and Steve. That was always nice too.

"He saved some kittens yesterday."

 _Me,_ I wanted to say. _I saved some kittens yesterday. ___

Instead I just sighed.

He went on and on about how great Iron Man was. I had to tune him out, focus on my notes, anything to not be so jealous of _myself_.

I wanted to say it. I wanted him to know who I was.

_But what if ..._

"Mm. Very cute," I interrupted when I just couldn't take it anymore.

"JARVIS, get Bruce on the line. I think I figured out the heat exchange problem." I made up yet another excuse. Just like every other Sunday afternoon. "Steve, do you mind clearing out?"

_What if he finds out ..._

"Oh, sure, sorry to bug you, I just wanted to stop in to see Iron Man ..." Steve ducked his head, polite and sweet even in the face of an obvious brush-off. "I like all my teammates, but I think he's my favorite."

"Of course he is."

I couldn't watch as he left, couldn't search for those eyes - they were so much bluer without the HUD between us.

_But what if he finds out and hates me for it?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When people say they'll do anything to get out of a training seminar, they don't mean fighting giant a slug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!long
> 
> this was supposed to be two chaps, but I couldn't find a natural place to break it.

I nearly jumped out of my skin Thursday morning when I stumbled into the kitchen to find Steve at the stove, shaking his hips and singing "rah rah-ah-ah-ah, roma roma-maaah, ga-ga ooh la laaah, want your bad romance" under his breath.

My first thought was _Holy shit, what the fuck is Steve doing here?_.

My second and all subsequent thoughts were _THAT ASS!!_

Seriously. I wanted to hunt it down and mount it on my wall.

And he just kept _moving_ it, oblivious to my presence as he flipped pancakes and shook his moneymaker.

I must have made a noise (I wasn't listening at that point), because he finally turned and smiled at me, waving with his spatula.

It was the closest call I'd had in all my years of secretly identifying. Normally I wandered around at this time of day in my pajama pants and nothing else. If it hadn't been chilly enough to warrant the hideous cable knit sweater Pep got me for my birthday (at JARVIS' suggestion - that rat bastard tricked me!), Steve would have seen the arc reactor, and I would have been keelhauled from the helicarrier.

Eventually I realized that Steve was saying something to me.

"Are you okay, Mr. Stark?"

"Uh, yeah ... what are you ...?"

"I'm sorry, JARVIS said I could come in and make breakfast for everyone. I thought Iron Man would have told you ... we're all meeting here to head to the seminar." He turned off the burner and poked his head out the other doorway. "Order up!" he shouted into the lounge.

"Sure, yeah, I just forgot ..."

"I made enough for you, too, if you'd like some." He swept over to the fridge and peeked inside, sticking that _ass_ out once again. "Wow! Real maple syrup!"

This guy.

"Only the best at Chez Stark." I tried not to think about where I'd like to put that maple syrup, cleared my throat and took a seat at the island.

The rest of the team burst in, saving me from having to make conversation.

Bruce sat next to me with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to take over your house all the time," he said sympathetically.

"If I could I'd let you all live here. It would be way easier for everyone." I shrugged. At least Fury's disdain for me gave me an excuse not to have to hide in my own home every day. "I probably shouldn't even be eating with you."

"We won't tell," Steve said with a smile.

I wasn't sure which I hated more - when Steve ignored me or when he was nice to me. At least when he ignored me I didn't wonder if he was faking it.

He made _really_ good pancakes, though, so I couldn't get too angry.

We all stuffed our faces in companionable silence, and when I'd had my fill I excused myself.

"I'll go boot Iron Man up and send him along. I've got a meeting in like half an hour." It wasn't exactly a lie ... I just neglected to mention the meeting was the same one they were going to.

\---------------------------------

The safety seminar was exactly the same as last year's (and the year before), new to no one except Steve, and I dozed off the pancakes while JARVIS took notes for me.

My nap was rudely interrupted, however, by a harsh alarm right in my ears. The Avengers were already leaping from their seats and dashing for the door, and I scrambled to catch up.

On stage, Coulson silenced the muttering crowd of agents with a brief glare. He glanced down at his tablet.

"Okay, we've got a kaiju slug coming up Fifth," he announced far too calmly. "On-duty non-essential personnel, please return to your station in an orderly fashion. Avenger Support Team to the hangar, on the double. Everyone else, remain seated for the video presentation."

Outside the mandatorium Steve broke for the locker rooms while I turned toward the upper decks.

I flew a quick recon lap, reporting back that the slug appeared to be alone and that traffic was going to be a bitch for a few hours. Thor was hot on my heels.

When I got the go-ahead, I opened up a can of tank missiles on its ass (do slugs have asses?), but they didn't seem to faze it, blowing comparatively small craters in the vast expanse of slimy brown flesh. Thor unleased the thundah, which made it twitch and little else. The monster just kept on trucking, pausing to nibble at some trees while ignoring a volley of repulsor blasts. 

We were definitely hurting it ... it just didn't care.

The Quinjet soared overhead, spitting out the rest of the team as it passed, three little parachutes opening and Hulk falling the whole way, fists first, only to bounce off his gelatinous foe and tumble halfway across Central Park.

At least we had time on our side; the slug was content to keep its own leisurely pace (pfft, tourist).

Only a little worried, I blasted up to the roof Steve had alighted upon.

"What's your pleasure, Cap?"

"I'm not sure ... Maybe salt?"

"It's worth a shot," Coulson chimed in over the comms. "I'll see if I can get someone from the DPW on the phone, but don't count on anything."

We couldn't just stand there though, so we spent the next hour in a fiece, one-sided battle, as the slug slowly but surely conquered block after block.

After a certain point we were just tiring ourselves out, everyone but Hawkeye slathered in slime.

"No salt," said Coulson, right when we could have used a little good news. "Not in a timely fashion anyway."

I was down on the pavement with Steve, and it almost hurt to see his shoulders slump in disappointment.

"Well, what _do_ we have?" I asked, turning once more to face the monster barreling toward us at a mile per hour. _God, that's gross,_ I thought taking my first good look at its mouth, ringed with rows of wicked teeth.

"C4?"

"We've been blasting it all day, we need to try something else," sighed Steve.

"No ... bring it ... I have an idea."

\----------------

"You don't have to do this," Steve pleaded, dashing after me (and slipping and falling).

"Someone's gotta," I answered as I blasted off, putting on my bravest face beneath the mask for my own benefit.

Once I passed the teeth into darkness I lost all sense of time and space, blasting hard and pushing myself as far down the fleshy tunnel as I could get - it was like swimming through pudding and it _sucked_.

I had sixty seconds to reach the center of the monster. JARVIS helpfully counted down for me, but I was still unprepared for the sheer power of the blast. The world went red and black for the briefest of seconds, the HUD flickering on and off as my brain did the same.

Next thing I knew I was half a block away and there was no slug in sight ... not a whole slug anyway.

Steve was beside me, still unable to stay on his feet, and I convinced him to stop struggling for a few minutes. The seminar would still be there when we got back, and I assured him that someone would come get us eventually.

"What if they never come?" he asked.

"Then I would be honored to die by your side, trapped like flies in a flood of Astroglide."

"That's great, but I don't want you to die."

I thought I was being funny, but apparently Steve took me seriously.

"I'm the invincible Iron Man ..." I shrugged my slimy shoulders. Hadn't I just survived enough C4 to make a Mythbuster blush?

"I mean it! I thought you were a goner for a minute there ..."

Wow, he was really worried about me. 

It was actually kind of sweet that he cared so much about an inanimate object.

He sat up and pulled off his mask, the better to stare at me sorrowfully. Now I felt like shit for making him sad.

"Damn near gave me a heart attack," he scolded. "I don't want to lose my new best friend as soon as I've found him."

It took me too long to process that admonishment, mostly because I'd never heard those words spoken in my direction before.

"Am I really ... your best friend?" I asked lamely, certain I'd misheard.

"Is that okay?"

It was more than okay ... in a way. It felt strange and good in a warm, fuzzy kind of way to be so important to such a great guy, but it opened up a whole new can of worms. Letting Iron Man be _friends_ with Steve was one thing ... but _best_ friends?

"I've never been anyone's best friend before. Do I need to _do_ something? Do we need a secret handshake?" Despite the danger, the idea of flat out _refusing_ his offer never even crossed my mind.

"You just need to stay alive." He reached out to gently wipe off my face. "Just don't leave me."

_This guy ..._

I held his hand in place, not sure if I did so to emphasize the sincerity of the idiotic, sentimental promise I was about to make or because I desperately wished I could feel his touch through the armor.

"I won't."

It was a shitty promise to make. I wasn't really invincible. There were a thousand ways I could be taken from him by next Tuesday ... but apparently it was the right thing to say, because he smiled sweetly and lowered his weight onto my chest, finally able to relax.

"You know," he murmured, taking his hand back and lifting an eyebrow, "it's really cute that you snore when you're in sleep mode."

Any day that ended in laughter was a good one, I supposed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very painful party.

As much as I enjoy parties in general, there are certain types of affairs which suck the very joy out of living.

This was one such affair.

It was a stately reception for stately people, every one of them a diplomat who reported to the politicians who signed Fury's paycheck (or a signer in their own right). It was basically the fanciest stockholder meeting I'd ever been to. Coulson gave a presentation on SHIELD's accomplishments in FY13, Hill outlined goals for FY15, and I mingled, subtlely advocating for bigger budgets.

Fury may have believed me to be a volatile, self-obsessed dandy, but by asking for my help each year to throw together a little shindig like this, he acknowledged that I was at least good for something besides polishing Iron Man's ass to a blinding shine. "Great party, Stark," was all the sneering approbration I'd ever receive from him, but damned if I'd turn it down.

After the presentations had been given, I set to work schmoozing, wending my way to Steve when I felt him watching me.

"It's a shame Iron Man couldn't make it," he said, grating so innocently on my last nerve.

"Trust me, Cap, his place is in the field. This is _my_ battleground." (Yes, Iron Man and I were _verrrry_ different, completely separate and distinct.) "Fury won't let me join his little club, but he's always delighted to exploit my political connections and accept my financial contributions ..." (No, I can't take credit for anything but hiring a caterer.) "... And my tireless labor maintaining that hunk of scrap metal," I threw in for good measure.

"You should take more pride in him. He's magnificent."

"That's right, I forgot, you guys are BFFs now." I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Steve was such a _good friend_ he didn't even recognize Iron Man in a tux.

I had to remind myself that it was a good thing Steve didn't know who I was ... but like many other things that were good for me, I hated it.

"He told you that?"

"He didn't have to. I know everything he knows. Remember that next time the Avengers talk shit about me in front of him." I excused myself with a harsh dose of truth, off to cheer myself up with some ambassadors' daughters. 

We could try this whole exchange-of-pleasantries thing later when Steve didn't feel like discussing his robo-bestie.

\--------------------

After dinner was done and drinks and dancing had begun, I stepped onto the balcony for a quick breather.

It took me a few sips of my third scotch to realize Steve was already out there, seated quietly at a patio table, lips wrapped sinfully around a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked." I couldn't pretend not to be shocked.

"Very occasionally. It's all your dad's fault," he answered with a short exhalation that might have been a rueful laugh.

"A lot of stuff is my dad's fault." I took another, bigger, sip and leaned over the railing.

"Did he ever talk about the war?" Steve stood and joined me, flicking some ash into the night sky.

The scent of tobacco on his jacket was strangely sexy, so unexpected and yet so appropriately Old Hollywood ... so masculine in such an outdated sense of the word.

"Not to me. I heard all the stories, but always second or third hand." I had come out here for peace and quiet, and all I was getting was a headache. But as much as I hated talking about my father, I still thought Steve had some right to honest answers about his friend. I was one of Steve's only links to the past, and I would at least try to be worthy of that position. _At least we're not talking about Iron Man_. "It's funny though. Captain America was my hero as a kid, and I always knew my dad disappeared every now and then to try to find his long lost friend, 'Steve' ... but I was fourteen or fifteen before I realized that you were the same person."

Steve made that same little noise at the back of his throat again, took a long drag and let it out slowly.

"That is funny," he finally agreed, though he wasn't exactly smiling. "Must have been weird."

"Well, it sure made it a lot harder to ..." _jack off to your poster_ "... see Captain America the same way afterward ... or my father. I was actually kind of embarrassed that I hadn't put two and two together sooner. Some boy genius I was."

Steve smiled at last.

"So ... do I live up to your expectations?"

"Many of them, yes." In fact, Steve exceeded my expectations of his bravery, leadership and nigh physical perfection. But I had never pictured him with such a trusting nature and kind heart. It was almost as if there were three of him: the Captain America I'd read about, the young Army captain I'd heard about, and the Steve I had come to know. "Do I live up to yours?" I asked before I realized that I probably wouldn't like the answer.

"Well, I didn't really have any ... but you're a lot less like your father than I thought you'd be." He sounded almost apologetic, as if he'd said something mean.

"Thank you, that actually means a lot to me," I was quick to correct him. "So many people tell me I'm just like him, but ... he never once said he loved me, and he killed my mother ... The last thing I want to be is him."

"He was such a great guy when I knew him, and it's sad to realize how much people can change ... but you're definitely your own person, Tony. You have nothing to worry about."

We stood in silence for a moment, Steve's body sheltering me from a sudden breeze.

"Let's get back in there and find you someone to dance with," I suggested, feeling better about the whole evening now that we'd had this little chat.

All trace of hard-earned happiness drained from Steve's eyes. I must have said something wrong.

"I don't dance."

\-----------------------------

Hours later, when everyone was gone and I had retired to the lab to take my frustrations out on some unsuspecting engines, JARVIS informed me that Steve was requesting a visit from Iron Man.

I suited up.

It sounded like he needed a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued


End file.
